


Scenario 9

by Velociraptor_Hands



Series: Uniform, a.k.a. Fuck the Police [2]
Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Alternate Universe, BDSM (not safe & sane), Collars, Dirty Talk, Dom/Sub (not safe & sane), Dubious Consent, Forced Feminization, Humiliation, M/M, Male on Female abuse references, Mentions of M/M/F, Multi, Nipple Play, Power Dynamics, Rape/Non-con References, Rimming, Sex Toys, Shaving, Size Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, WIP, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:06:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velociraptor_Hands/pseuds/Velociraptor_Hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ninth scenario and second WIP fill from my <a href="http://tmblr.co/ZoucSuRw43Yi">Scenario Masterlist</a> on tumblr.</p><p><b>Scenario 9:</b>  Mobster Tom learns that Officers Chris and Idris can’t be bribed with money.  Size/strength, rimming, kitchen.</p><p>I feel the need to warn all of you that this is not a fluffy fic in the slightest.  It’s a bit dark and none of the characters are good people.  Please take heed of the warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can also read this on my [tumblr](http://tmblr.co/ZoucSuSCoLp3).

All in all, it had not been the best week for Tom or his employers. His organization had lost a shipment of drugs to an overzealous FBI agent, and subsequently had to send the capo for the docks “away.” Whether the unfortunate man had been killed or was simply hiding from the authorities, Tom didn’t know nor care. What did concern him was why he was now standing in front of his immediate superior, Robert Downey, outside the office of the big man himself, Boss Jackson.

 

“As you’ve no doubt heard by now, Renner is gone. So, we’ve had to re-shuffle a few things to fill in that gap, and you, Tom, are one of those things.” Downey’s face, as always, was light and friendly, but his tone was serious. “However, before we move you the Boss wants to see you.”

 

Tom’s mouth went dry at the thought of finally meeting Jackson. Despite working for the man directly and indirectly for several years, he’d never actually seen him. Sam Jackson wisely interacted with very few people, preferring to sit like a queen bee at the center of his criminal network while his underlings carried out his orders. Downey was the only person Tom knew who’d met him in person, and he had said very little about what the man was actually like.

 

“Should I be worried?” Tom asked.

 

There was a flicker of amusement in Downey’s eyes, a mischievousness that Tom had learned to be wary of. “Just be your usual charming self, babe, and everything will work out fine.” 

 

 _For which one of us?_ Tom thought. 

 

Downey had been good to him, acting as a mentor at times over the years, but his help had always come with a price, usually in the form of sexual favors. Tom hadn’t minded, not really; Downey was an attractive man, could be a generous lover, and neither of them were the clingy type. And, although Tom was loath to admit it even to himself, he found he enjoyed sex more when there was an imbalance of power at play. Downey was never overt about it, but there was always that reminder that while it was great Tom wanted to please him, fantastic even, it didn’t really matter. Tom would either do as he said or there would be hell to pay.

 

Unfortunately, their mutually beneficial arrangement had begun to fall apart recently. Downey had attempted to use Tom as a bargaining chip in negotiations with an interested supplier, offering his mouth in exchange for a few extras. Though he had threatened to do something like this before, Tom had never thought he’d actually go through with it. Had it been a few years earlier, he would have had no choice but to obey, but now Tom was an integral cog in the well-oiled machine that was Jackson’s empire. Not as important as Downey, few were, but enough that should something happen to him it would draw quite a bit of negative attention. Tom had also made several well-placed allies who could promise retribution painful enough to give Downey pause. 

 

In the end, Tom had refused to do it but got nothing more than a few bruises in return. Ever since then sex with Downey had been less frequent but more violent. There was a desperation that hadn’t existed before and it soon sucked all the pleasure out of their coupling, or at least it did for Tom. Downey still seemed content enough on the surface, but he had always been one to play the long game. His anger would build like ice, layer upon layer, until the slow expansion of it broke apart the object of his ire. Tom knew it was only a matter of time before the true punishment for his defiance was meted out.

 

For this reason alone he should have been more cautious of the meeting, but he let himself be distracted by the idea of finally meeting Boss Jackson and what his new job could possibly be. Currently he was running a high-level grift involving several local businesses and politicians, as well as liaising with a prominent auction house regarding their smuggling operations. Like his mentor, Tom favored slow-moving far-reaching schemes with a big payoff, though his plans tended to be more elegant than Downey’s. He avoided brutality at all costs, but was not afraid to employ it should the need arise. He had found himself a niche and couldn’t imagine where else Jackson wanted to place him. Certainly not in Renner’s job.

 

So it was with curiosity rather than trepidation that he followed Downey into the Boss’s sprawling, art deco office. The man in question was seated behind a massive wood desk, dressed to the nines in what could only be a custom suit. Tom admired the cut, being a fan of bespoke clothing himself. Jackson had a stern but open mien and favored Downey with a smile as he stood up to greet them.

 

“Robert, right on time as always!” Jackson shook Downey’s hand before moving on to Tom. He did not offer his hand, but turned to circle Tom instead, humming as he inspected him. Tom fought the urge to fidget and looked to Downey for guidance who merely shrugged.

 

“Boss, this is Tom Hiddleston.” Downey sounded exceedingly pleased with himself, which did not bode well.

 

Jackson continued his circuit before coming to a stop in front of Tom, a calculating look upon his face. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” Tom finally broke the silence, uncomfortable under that penetrating gaze. He hadn’t meant to add the “sir” at the end, but it felt right. Jackson exuded authority more than anyone Tom had ever met.

 

Jackson chuckled, “Oh, that’s perfect. And you’re English too?” Before Tom could respond he turned back to Downey, “Why the fuck is this the first time I’m hearing about this kid? I could’ve moved Scarlett up a long time ago.”

 

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention to your more specialized operations. Tom’s been a pet project of mine for some time now. He’s quite a valuable asset to our plans with Maria’s auction house, among other things.”

 

“Not just a pretty face then.” Jackson turned again to Tom. “Speaking of, that goatee has got to go. I mean, today.” 

 

Tom’s hand involuntarily flew to his chin, “I’m sorry?”

 

“There’s a bathroom through the door to your left, kid. Under the sink should be some gel and disposable razors. I want you clean shaven.” When Tom made no move to comply, Jackson narrowed his eyes, “Now, son!”

 

Tom jumped a little then shot Downey an aggravated look at his snicker. He said nothing as he stomped off to follow Jackson’s orders, but his displeasure was clear. He was not foolish enough to slam the bathroom door though it was a near thing. The blue-tiled room was neat and simple, just a toilet, sink and mirror. The razors and gel were exactly where Jackson said they would be and Tom slammed them on the countertop in irritation. His shoulders hunched forward and he leaned down to brace his hands against the sink’s edge before sighing and straightening up again. 

 

He watched in the mirror as his reflection reached up and petted his little goatee, then traced the auburn curves of it around his mouth. He had grown it a little over three years ago at Downey’s suggestion. Tom had been given an assignment that required him to work with officials from several of the various merchant marine unions. It had not gone well; many of the men were older and had shown him little respect, despite the organization he represented. Downey had suggested growing a beard or goatee to make him look more mature. 

 

“You’re too young and pretty for them to take you seriously, not without some hair on your face.” Downey had said, caressing his cheek. 

 

“You take me seriously,” Tom had countered. “And I’m not pretty, I’m devastatingly handsome.”

 

Downey had kissed him, “You’re both pretty and handsome, baby. Very, very pretty.”

 

Tom had stopped shaving the next day and never looked back.

 

Now his goatee had become such a part of him, his mental image of himself, that he found it difficult to obey Jackson and get rid of it. It was such a little thing, but being forced to shave felt like a violation. It was silly, but he felt like all the authority he had built up over the years, the scraps of power he had forged into a shield, was tied in with his stupid goatee. If he shaved it he would be right back where he started three years ago, still very much in thrall to Downey.

 

A knock at the door interrupted him and Downey slipped into the room.

 

“I thought you might have trouble with this.” He placed his hands on Tom’s shoulders and steered him to sit on the toilet cover.

 

“Downey,” Tom never called him Robert outside of the bedroom, “what is going on here?”

 

“I’m going to shave you, Tom,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He quickly scrubbed Tom’s face with a warm wash cloth and then turned to dispense shaving gel into one hand.

 

Tom reached up and grabbed his wrist. “What have you gotten me into?”

 

There was a darkness in Downey’s eyes that Tom had never seen before, “Nothing you can’t handle, baby. Now shut up and let me do this; the Boss is waiting.”

 

Tom let go and submitted to his ministrations. Downey was careful, gentle even, and Tom shut his eyes as the gel was lathered on his face. The first prickle of the razor almost made him gasp. It was so intimate, such a vulnerable position to be in with a man he both trusted and didn’t, that Tom found himself growing hard against his will. He had done so many things with Downey, let him do so many things, but never this.

 

The swish and snick of the razor and the sound of running water was hypnotic; Tom could not say how much time had passed before Downey was patting his face dry. The brush of terrycloth against his newly-shorn skin prompted him to open his eyes. 

 

“There now, all done.” Downey placed a kiss on his head, then folded his arms in satisfaction and stepped back from the toilet.

 

Tom stumbled up from his seat, one of his feet had fallen numb, and pushed to stand in front of the mirror. Downey had been right; he looked younger without the goatee, much younger. His shock of wavy light auburn hair hadn’t changed, but he thought his hairline looked higher without the balance the little beard had provided. Fortunately his pale skin wasn’t conducive to tanning so only the faintest lines remained to indicate where the goatee had been. It was almost as though it had never existed, as though the person he had been was gone.

 

Downey patted his shoulder then nudged him towards the door. “Time to go, babe.”

 

Tom allowed himself to be led back into the office and tried to ignore how naked he felt. Jackson was again at his desk and beckoned Tom forward. He stood up as Tom neared and reeled him in closer with a hand on his arm. The back of his fingers brushed against Tom’s now smooth jaw and chin.

 

“Much better, Thomas. Now have a seat and we’ll get down to business.” 

 

Tom and Downey each sat down in a high-backed chair to listen. Tom’s hands kept running over his face and throat as though searching for his missing beard, but he paid attention to everything the Boss said. He was to take over a few of the duties of a woman named Scarlett, someone he knew by her formidable reputation but had never met. Though she was supposedly a petite, beautiful woman, Scarlett was also a feared and respected enforcer.

 

She was moving up to Renner’s job at the docks, splitting some of the responsibilities with Clark Gregg, a man Tom had worked with before. Tom would be collecting payments from businesses and handing out bribes to certain police and officials. Why he couldn’t do that with a beard was never explained, and Tom didn’t think it wise to ask.

 

“You have your first payment tonight, Elba and Hemsworth, two police in Old Town who’ve been on our payroll for a long fucking time now. You’ll have the bag and they’ll have the key.” Jackson leaned forward across the desk and pointed his finger at Tom in emphasis. “You will be polite and respectful of them; Elba in particular has been incredibly helpful to us and we can’t afford to lose him as an ally. Give them whatever the fuck they want and then report back to me. If they aren’t happy with you I need to know about it immediately. Do you understand, Thomas?”

 

Tom’s forehead crinkled in puzzlement, but he nodded his head in assent. All of this just to please a couple of dirty police? Why wouldn’t they be happy with him? All he had to do was drop off their money. How hard could it be? There was something off about the whole thing; it made his skin crawl.

 

Jackson noted his confusion, “These two police are…particular. They have very specific demands that must be catered to in order to ensure their continued cooperation. Right now, given the fuck up at the docks, we cannot afford to piss them off. And they’re already irritated as all fuck that we’ve had to replace Scarlett as their contact. So do whatever they ask, follow all their orders, and then report back to me. Got it?”

 

“Yes, sir. I’ll be respectful and do my best to make sure they’re happy.”

 

Jackson beamed at him. “Exactly. Now get the fuck home and change; you need to be at their location by seven. Robert, pick something out for him, will you? You’ve dealt with Elba before, right?”

 

“I’ve run into him several times, yeah. I can think of a few extras he’d like. I’ll make sure to send them along with Tom and the cash.” Downey smirked and Tom suddenly felt cold.

 

“Wonderful. And good work, by the way, nominating Thomas here for the job. I think he’ll be perfect, won’t you son?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Tom swallowed, and tried to look enthusiastic. He was missing something, something important, something vital. There was an undercurrent of amusement between Jackson and Downey, and Tom was certain he was the joke. But what was the punchline?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom learns the terms of the payment and revenge is a dish best served cold.

Several hours later Tom arrived at a well-kept brownstone in a nice section of Old Town. Downey had fucked him into the mattress as soon as they reached Tom’s apartment after the meeting, hard and fast with the intention to hurt him. He had then tenderly cleaned Tom up and dressed him in one of his favorite outfits: an all black three-piece suit and shirt, topped with a shiny black and dark silver striped tie. Now Tom was sore and felt somewhat ridiculous to be standing here so elegantly attired and carrying two grey, utilitarian duffle bags, one large and one small.

 

Downey had given him the bags and a sealed letter with instructions that they all go to Idris only. Had they not been padlocked shut, Tom would gladly have given in to his curiosity and opened the smaller; its lumpy shape and light weight meant that it did not carry cash as did its larger mate. Robert had referred to it as the “goody bag” and had placed it in the trunk of Tom’s car himself. Tom ran his hands over it like a blind man, trying to discern its contents as he walked up the steps to his destination.

 

He squared his shoulders and rang the bell, tamping down on his nerves as heavy feet moved inside to answer. The door opened to reveal an older, incredibly handsome man with a light scattering of grey in his beard. He was very tall, very muscular with dark skin and large, expressive brown eyes.

 

Tom licked his lips, “Mr. Idris Elba? I’m Tom Hiddleston, from the club? You seem to have forgotten your bags and I thought I’d drop them off for you.” Robert had made him memorize the idiotic little ruse; it sounded to Tom like lines from a bad porno. 

 

Idris looked surprised and then curious, running his eyes up and down Tom’s body, “Did I? How careless of me. Well, come on in and have a beer on me in thanks.” Tom suppressed a shudder, both at the man’s obvious interest and his deep, velvet-smooth voice.

 

Idris stepped back but not away from the door, meaning Tom had to brush past what felt like a wall of muscle to enter the foyer. A firm hand settled on his shoulder and steered him into the kitchen, letting go once they were before a huge island made of brushed steel. Idris circled to the other side and retrieved two bottles of Guinness from an enormous steel fridge with double doors, popping the caps on his way back then sliding a bottle to Tom over the countertop. 

 

The big man leaned against the island, took a sip of the stout, and gave Tom an appraising stare. “You’re not Scarlett.”

 

Insulting the other man’s intelligence would not be the best start to the evening, so Tom restrained himself and smiled apologetically, “Unfortunately, she is needed elsewhere. I’ll be your contact from now on.”

 

“Boss said we’d get a replacement tonight, but you are not what I expected at all.”

 

Tom hid his surprise that Jackson had spoken directly to Idris. He put the duffle bags on the counter and then spread his arms, “I’m sorry to disappoint, Mr. Elba. I was only informed of the whole thing this afternoon, myself.”

 

Idris took another mouthful and said evenly, “I didn’t say I was disappointed.”

 

“Oh. Well, I aim to please, Mr. Elba.” Tom shrugged and raised his bottle in salute.

 

“Mmm, we’ll see.” Idris murmured.

Tom wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he took a long drag off his Guinness and wiped the excess with the back of his hand. Idris said nothing as well, but Tom wished he would. The silence and his nervousness under the other’s shrewd eyes grew until his hands were fiddling with the label of the bottle. 

 

Finally Tom put it down and cleared his throat. He smiled awkwardly and nudged the duffle bags towards Idris, “Boss said you had keys for them? Oh, and this is from Downey.” He retrieved the letter from his waistcoat and placed it on top of the larger bag. Idris’s eyebrows quirked upward as he opened the letter. Tom watched him carefully for any clue as to its contents. The other man glanced up at him once in amusement then continued to read. 

 

“Rob Downey is a friend of yours? Tom, was it?”

 

“Tom, yes. And I’ve known Downey for many years. In fact, he recommended me for this… assignment.”

 

Idris’s smile was not friendly, “Yeah, his note said as much. He seems delighted to send you to us.” He refolded the letter and put it in his pocket.

 

The hard knot of worry that had been raveling in his stomach tightened, and Tom took another quick swig of Guinness to hide his anxiety.

 

“Tell me Tom, what, if anything, did Robert say about this ‘assignment’?”

 

“Um, well he and the Boss said that I’m to remit payment and make sure you and Mr. Hemsworth are happy with it.”

 

Idris raised an eyebrow and took another drink, “That was all?”

 

Tom’s irritation with the whole situation came roaring back, “Why? Is there more I should know? You have your payment, Mr. Elba, you seem happy enough. If my work here is done then I should leave.” He stood up and turned to go but only made it a few steps before he was stopped by a hand on his arm. Idris pulled him back roughly and pushed him onto a tall stool by the island.

 

Idris’s voice was mild, but his eyes were not. “Did I say you could go, Tom? I also don’t remember saying I was satisfied yet. And I believe your orders were to pay off myself _and_ Chris? To make sure we were both happy? Do you see him here? No?” He loomed over Tom, arms folded and a stern expression on his face.

 

“No, but-“

 

Idris cut him off and spun the stool around so that Tom faced the counter, fisting a hand in his hair then slamming his Guinness down in front of him. “Until I say otherwise you will shut up, finish your drink, and stay put.” He leant down and growled in Tom’s ear, “Or else I’ll be very, very unhappy, Tom. I don’t think you want to report that back to the Boss, do you?” He gave Tom’s head a shove and released him.

 

Tom remained silent and shook his head no, damning himself for allowing Downey to outmaneuver him into this situation as well as for the thread of arousal that curled up his spine in response to Idris’s manhandling. Given the other man’s size, he shouldn’t have been surprised at how easily he had been overpowered. Tom had felt like a child under his hands. If the rest of the evening continued in the same vein he would be lucky to leave without further embarrassing himself, something he imagined Downey had been counting on. He hoped this Chris Hemsworth returned soon and turned out to be a timid, ugly little man, but the way his luck was running lately it didn’t augur well.

 

As if on cue, they heard the clatter and creak of the front door opening. Idris pointed a finger at him in warning then exited the kitchen. Tom rolled his eyes but remained seated and silent. The muffled sound of Idris’s rumbling voice was joined by another almost as deep. Tom strained to hear what they were saying but the slam of a door ended any chance of that. He hunched over the counter and began tearing at the label of his Guinness again, eyeing the “goody bag” malevolently. Frustrated, he leaned back with a sigh and lifted the bottle to finish it off. He had tilted his head back to catch the last of the Guinness when someone behind him said, “So this is the new Scarlett?”

 

Startled, Tom pitched forward violently and choked, dropping the bottle onto the steel countertop. A large hand caught his chest and another slapped his back several times hard enough to hurt.

 

“You alright there? Didn’t mean to frighten you.” The voice didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

 

Tom sputtered and his eyes watered, but he shook his head as he turned to look at the newcomer. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You really shouldn’t sneak…“ He trailed off at the sight of the man holding him. He was taller than Tom, taller than Idris even and just as well-muscled and huge as his partner. Tom knew he must look an idiot sitting there with his mouth open and eyes wide, but he frankly was shocked at meeting yet another mountain of a man in less than an hour. Idris had been impressive, was still impressive, but this man was built like a god. He was younger than Idris, possibly even younger than Tom himself, but held himself with just as much authority as the other cop.

 

 _Two of them. Jesus Christ, there are two of them_ , he thought hysterically. _I’m going to kill Downey._

 

“You sure you’re okay? I didn’t realize walking into my own kitchen constituted sneaking around.” The big blond bearded stranger looked thoroughly amused.

 

“No, really, I’m…fine. I’m good. Just swallowed wrong is all. Sorry.” Tom realized he had begun to babble and quickly collected himself. “You must be Mr. Hemsworth.” 

 

“No, I’m Chris. Call me Chris. Idris here may like all that formality but I’m a little more relaxed.” He released his hold on Tom and stepped back to get a better look at him, then turned to Idris who had followed. “Well, I don’t know whether to be pleased or upset at how well Jackson knows us, Dris. I think he may be a little too on the mark this time.”

 

Idris passed Chris and dragged Tom to his feet, stepping in behind him. “I had the same thought, but I’m leaning more towards pleased now.”

 

Chris moved towards him and Tom found himself backing into Idris. It was like being thirteen again, before he had hit his growth spurt. He was by no means a short man, but both of these men topped him by about an inch or two, let alone the fact that each probably outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Never in his adult life had he felt so small or fragile as he did caught between Idris and Chris. His lust kicked up a notch and if he wasn’t careful he would lose control of it.

 

“What are you talking about?” Tom hated how pathetic his voice sounded.

 

He felt the vibration of Idris’s laugh through his back before he heard it, “You, Tom. We’re talking about you. And here I thought you were supposed to be a clever boy. Or does Rob like them dumb and pretty?”

 

Tom bristled, “Fuck off! Look, I’ve brought your money and whatever it is Downey felt like including. Chris is here now. I am not part of your fucking fee, so if you’ll excuse me I’d like to be on my way.” 

 

Before he could slip from between them Chris took hold of his arms and pinned him back against Idris’s chest. Two more hands snaked around to grip Tom’s hipbones. He struggled against them but he might as well have stayed still for all the good it did; he was completely outmatched.

 

“No, pretty boy, you are part of the payment. Just like Scarlett was,” Chris grinned down at him. “Rob gave you to us in that letter he sent Dris. You’re our toy now.”

 

Tom’s face paled in horror. Downey had won; he had whored Tom out, this time with Boss Jackson’s blessing. No amount of influence or friends could supersede direct orders from the Boss. Tom was well and truly fucked. 

 

Chris’s grin grew wider at his distress, “Don’t worry, Tom. Scarlett had no complaints about us; we made sure she enjoyed herself. She didn’t always like how we played, but she always liked getting fucked. And you will too.” 

 

Chris squatted slightly and tilted his head down to nuzzle at Tom’s throat. His tongue circled the Adam’s apple then he bit down hard, causing Tom to jump and push his head back against Idris’s shoulder. Tom grunted and shut his eyes as the pain went straight to his cock. 

 

Idris’s hand at his groin squeezed in response, “That got his interest.” 

 

Chris licked the shallow indents left by his teeth. “Really? Just one little bite has you hard, Tom? I think you’re going to be a lot more fun than Scarlett. She didn’t mind a little pain, but it wasn’t really her thing. With you, though, I think we can be as rough as we’d like and it still won’t be enough. Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

 

Chris wasn’t wrong but the hell if Tom was going to let him know that. Instead he recovered himself and tried to kick out but only succeeded in losing his balance and stumbling back against Idris. The size of what he felt dig into his backside made him freeze. _Oh God, I’m going to die. They’re going to tear me in two and kill me._

 

“Mmm, I’m glad you have a better understanding of what you’re up against. Now, you can be a good boy and we’ll do this the sane, rational way with lots of lube and stretching. Or you can be a bad boy, which means you’ll take all of me at once and end your evening in a lot of pain, none of it the good kind. Which would you prefer, little man?” Idris sounded far too cheerful for the words that were coming out of his mouth. Tom couldn’t suppress a shudder when Idris’s hand moved to rub in circles against his cock. 

 

“G-good! I’ll be good.”

 

“Excellent choice. Shall we have a look at those bags Rob sent over? I’m sure he included something for you, too.” Idris let him go and opened a little drawer by the kitchen cupboard. He removed a tiny manila envelope with the current day’s date written in red ink on the front. From what Tom could see there was a stack of similar envelopes in the drawer, all with different dates. Idris shut it before he could see more and tapped Chris on the shoulder as he walked to the duffle bags on the other side of the island.

 

“Yeah, let’s take a look, Tom.” Chris flipped him around and shoved him forward against the edge of the counter. He pressed up behind him, huge arms to either side trapping Tom in place.

 

Idris opened the envelope and shook out a pair of tiny keys on a little ring, which he then set to matching to the padlocks on the bags. He quickly unlocked the large one and took a cursory glance inside, “Seems like the money’s all here, but I’ll give it a count later. Now let’s move on to the fun one.” He rubbed his hands in anticipation then fitted the last key in the padlock on Downey’s “goody bag.” Despite everything that had happened, Tom couldn’t help but stare with morbid curiosity as Idris revealed the contents of the bag he had so innocently been obsessed with earlier that evening.

 

“What have we got, Dris?” Chris asked eagerly from above Tom’s head.

 

“A few toys.” Idris removed a bottle of strawberry-flavored lube, a large purple butt plug with ridges, a black and white ball gag, a box of condoms, metal and leather handcuffs, and what looked like a remote-controlled vibrator. “And a few surprises.” He pulled out two professionally wrapped gift boxes, one small and round, the other large, flat and shallow. A tiny card had been taped to the top of each and Idris flipped them up. “They’re for Tom, from Rob.”

 

Tom’s brow wrinkled in confusion. He accepted the boxes with a trembling hand and opened the larger one first. The black bow came undone easily and once Tom ripped the silver wrapping paper at one end the box inside slid right out. He carefully lifted the lid and set it aside, revealing layers of delicate black tissue paper. His long fingers searched beneath the tissue for his gift and then recoiled once they found it. 

 

Behind him Chris nudged his shoulder, “Go on then, let’s see what you got.”

 

Tom wanted more than anything at that moment to burn the box and its contents, but he parted the tissue paper to slowly pull out the sleek material he had felt earlier. It was a chemise of deep ocean blue silk edged in cream colored lace. Beneath it lay a pair of matching panties which Chris quickly snatched up with a laugh and tossed to Idris. 

 

“I thought you said Rob was your friend, Tom,” Idris inspected the flimsy undergarment then flung it back. “You might want to re-examine that assumption.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this chapter on my [tumblr](http://tmblr.co/ZoucSuSF_gv_).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom learns his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be part of the previous chapter, but it was a little too big for one post in my opinion. 
> 
> You can also read this chapter on my [tumblr](http://tmblr.co/ZoucSuSJQgXA).

Mortified, Tom didn’t answer, his focus solely on the garment in his hands. He snapped out of it only when Chris retrieved the panties and held them up against his cheek. “Whatever he is to you, Rob definitely knows your colors.”

 

Tom ripped the panties out of Chris’s hand and balled them up along with the chemise to throw them as far away from himself as possible. Chris managed to catch his wrists before he could act, “Bad boy, Tom. Is that any way to treat such a beautiful present?” 

 

“Fuck you! You can keep it if you like it so much.” Tom was dismayed at how childish he sounded, but could muster no other response in the face of his overwhelming anger and humiliation at Downey’s betrayal. He wrenched his wrists free and tossed the offending lingerie back over his shoulder into Chris’s face, then elbowed him in the stomach and ducked under his flailing arms to make a dash for the door before reason intervened. Even if he escaped, where would he go? He would have to leave the city, leave all he had worked for behind. And if Boss Jackson caught him he would either be sent right back here or face an even worse punishment.

 

Defeated, he stopped running after a few steps and seconds later was jerked backward by his collar. Chris ripped his suit jacket off and lifted his tie to use as a leash, yanking him around. Tom clutched Chris’s arm with both hands but made no attempt to fight back.

 

“That was stupid, Tom, very, very stupid.” Idris’s voice drifted from across the kitchen.

 

“I know,” Tom grit out.

 

“Couldn’t help yourself, huh?” Chris’s voice was almost pleasant despite his vicious hold on Tom’s tie. He let go and picked Tom up by the waist to haul him onto the steel surface of the island. Tom yelped and his hands shot out to hold onto Chris’s forearms for balance. Chris shook him off and stepped between his now spread legs to grab both of Tom’s wrists in one hand while he unbuttoned the waistcoat with the other. “I told you he would be fun, Dris. Get those handcuffs ready, okay?”

 

Chris stripped him of the waistcoat and relinquished his wrists to Idris. His arms were quickly buckled and cuffed behind his back and Idris smacked him on the back of the head for good measure. Chris un-tucked Tom’s shirt and ripped it open but left the tie around his neck in place.

 

“We’ll keep your little gift from Rob, but I don’t believe you’ve thought your offer through. Let’s look at this.” Idris stepped back from Tom and picked the chemise up from the floor to hold it up against himself. The silky material looked absurd framed by his broad chest. It was obvious it would never fit him, probably wouldn’t even get past his thick arms let alone his torso and hips. Idris passed it to Chris, who held the lingerie against himself as though thinking of trying it on, making it plain that doing so would be next to impossible.

 

Tom knew where this was going and could feel the beginnings of a blush on his chest that would soon suffuse his neck and face. Chris rummaged around in a drawer to Tom’s left, pulling out a pair of kitchen shears. He flinched at the sound of them opening then stilled to watch in quiet shock as Chris slit the sleeves of his dress shirt to pull it off. Idris dropped the chemise on the counter next to him and went to work on undoing Tom’s belt and pants while Chris had moved on to his shoes and socks. One of them lifted his hips to slide off the pants and then Tom was naked except for his red boxer briefs and the tie still around his neck.

 

“Red? Really?” Idris asked while Chris snorted.

 

“You can both go fuck yourselves,” he snarled weakly at them, desperate to regain some shred of dignity.

 

“No, we’d much rather watch you fuck yourself, pretty boy. I’m sure we can get to that before the evening is over.” Idris pulled Tom forward and off the island by his tie then shoved him back until the edge dug into his arms and lower back. 

 

Chris shook out the crumpled chemise and laid it against Tom’s chest, “Should be a perfect fit.”

 

“See, Tom, the only one who can wear this is you. Chris and I just aren’t built to wear lingerie. But you’re such a scrawny little thing we could probably even stuff you in a few of the outfits Scarlett left behind, no problem. So thank you, we’d love to keep this. We can just add it to our collection and keep it safe here waiting for you. Because you’re the only one who’ll ever wear it.”

 

Chris added, “We’ve got quite a wardrobe. All of it perfect for a blue-eyed, ginger like Scarlett or yourself. You can wear Rob’s present tonight or we can go pick out something more…elaborate.”

 

Tom panicked, “You can’t…I’m not…If you wanted a woman, why didn’t you ask for one? I can’t be Scarlett, but I-I can find a girl like her for you. I know plenty of redheads. What about strawberry blonds? There’s this one gorgeous girl, Gw-“

 

Idris used the tie to drag his head up and back, baring his throat, “No, Tom. We asked for a beautiful, submissive redhead and Boss picked you. Before Scarlett there was Ruth, and before her there was Michael. All of them pretty little ginger subs like you.”

 

Tom gaped at him, “But I’m not a-a-a _sub_!”

 

“Of course you aren’t, Tom,” Chris soothed mockingly. “You just enjoy getting thrown around and dominated by men. Rob must have it wrong; you’re not submissive at all.”

 

Tom blushed red to the tips of his ears, “That isn’t…It’s not like I want to be…owned. I just like certain things.” Sure he enjoyed it when someone had power over him in bed but that was mostly just play, with Downey being the exception. This, however, was far too real and graphic to match any of Tom’s fantasies. Still, his body betrayed him at the thought of how humiliated and helpless these two men wanted to make him. He could protest and fight all he liked, but it wouldn’t alter the fact that their treatment left him thrumming with desire.

 

“You sure about that, little man?” Idris pulled Tom’s head back farther and placed his other hand around his throat. He squeezed lightly then trailed his fingers down his chest and stomach before peeling back his briefs. Tom’s long, slender cock bobbed out, half-hard and glistening. Idris ran a finger over it and thumbed the tip. Tom whimpered in protest as he pulled against the cuffs, not sure if he wanted to rip the other man’s hand away or make sure it never left.

 

He was unable to focus on anything but Idris’s fingers when they moved lower to tug and roll his balls. Taking advantage of his distraction, Chris used the scissors to cut open the red briefs and pull the torn material down and off. He lifted one of Tom’s legs and the feel of something silky sliding over his foot and around his ankle caused Tom to buck out of Idris’s hands and back against the counter in an attempt to regain his footing. 

 

“No, no, no,” he moaned, horrified as Chris dropped that leg and lifted the next to slip through the other side of the panties. He squirmed as the skimpy bit of sleek lingerie slithered up his calves, over his thighs, and snapped into place just above his hipbones. The rough texture of the lace border rubbed delightfully underneath the head of his now hard cock, which peeked out obscenely over the edge.

 

“Look at you, such a pretty girl for us,” Idris breathed, wide eyes drinking in the sight of him. He traced the outline of Tom’s cock through the panties, leaving a stuttered trail of damp, darkened silk in his wake. “So wet for us already, aren’t you?”

 

Tom’s eyebrows crumpled up in misery, “Please don’t. Don’t say that. Don’t!”

 

“What? Don’t call you a pretty girl? But you are, Tom. You’re so beautiful like this.”

 

“I can’t wait to see how gorgeous you’ll be in the rest of your little outfit. Rob has great taste. Did he make you wear anything like this for him?” Chris joined Idris and reached lower to smooth the silk over Tom’s balls, sliding down further to press it against his perineum. Tom let out a short gasp and shook his head no. Downey had suggested it once, even bought a pair of sheer black lace panties for him, but Tom had begged out of it. He must have remembered how agitated Tom had been at the idea.

 

“What a waste. His legs would look lovely in fishnets and garters, don’t you think Dris?”

 

Idris said nothing and brushed his hand back up Tom’s torso to pinch and roll a nipple, his eyes intent on Tom’s face. 

 

“Nnn…Ah!” Tom tried to bite down on the sound, but Idris’s other hand came up so that both of his nipples were twisted and tugged in a way that left little room for coherent thought in a brain now overloaded with sensory input. For Chris’s clever fingers had found their way back to the cleft of his ass and stretched the silk there to rub against his clenching hole. That combined with the cruel hands on his chest left Tom completely defenseless in the face of his unwanted lust.

 

“I knew you’d be the type of girl who liked having her tits played with. I’ll bet you could come for me just like this.” If Tom could have spared blood for anywhere but his cock, he would have flushed crimson at Idris’s claim. He had always been ashamed at how sensitive his nipples were, considered it a womanly form of foreplay to have them bitten or sucked on and so avoided it all costs. Downey knew, of course; there was little about Tom’s body he didn’t know at this point, and one his favorite punishments was to abuse those little nubs of flesh until Tom was reduced to a begging, blushing, writhing wreck.

 

And now Idris knew too. The older man lowered his hands and bent down to rub his beard across the hard point of Tom’s left nipple, making him moan with the prickly burn of it. Idris then latched onto it with his mouth, soothing away the pain with his tongue before digging into the areola with a cruel bite. Tom’s entire body spasmed, his back arched into the teeth on his chest and then he slammed backwards against the steel edge of the counter hard enough to bruise the backs of his arms.

 

“God…fuck…please,” he panted, not even sure what he was trying to say only that he had to say it. His cock was a rigid, throbbing angry thing now, purpled and shiny with sweat and precum; it pushed painfully against the confines of the band of lace that held it against his stomach.

 

There was silence for a moment and Tom cracked open an eye to find the two cops staring at him, Chris in astonishment and Idris in smug appreciation. 

 

“Jesus Christ, you’re a sensitive little slut. Why the fuck would Rob want to share you?” Chris shook his head in disbelief.

 

“Tom’s been a naughty boy, getting ideas above his station, and this is Rob’s way of putting him back in his place.” Idris’s grin was evil. “I’m looking forward to opening his other present to you, Tom. But first, I want to test my theory.” He lifted Tom by his waist to place him again on the countertop then motioned to Chris, “C’mon, let’s see how responsive he really is.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Downey plays the long game and Tom lets go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief Daddy!kink at the end.
> 
> This is the last chapter I had that was already written. I'll continue to update this, but much, much slower. Sorry, you guys, but I write at a glacier's pace sometimes. However, I will be posting my other Scenario WIP here soon. Be on the lookout for _Scenario 5_!
> 
> You can also read this chapter on my [tumblr](http://tmblr.co/ZoucSuTY1jzQ).

Tom was pushed onto his back and two heads descended on his chest. He arched up both from the sensation of twin mouths devouring him and the weight of his legs dangling off the edge of the counter. He had no leverage to fight back even if he wanted to. Chris’s mouth laved his right nipple, circling it and sucking at his skin. Idris, on the other hand, almost chewed on him, biting and nipping. Neither of them paid any attention to his poor, desperately twitching cock.

 

He tried to twist away or at least buck one of them off, but Chris tired of his feeble interruptions. He hooked Tom’s leg over his shoulder and gave a harsh tug to his balls. “Bad girl,” he admonished before continuing his assault on Tom’s swollen nub.

 

“Please…please…please,” Tom chanted under his breath, wanting more than anything to either come or for them to stop. Idris must have sensed how close he was; he gave one last scrape of his beard to Tom’s abused left nipple and then sat back, patting Chris’s shoulder for him to do the same. Chris lifted his head, but kept Tom’s leg bent over him.

 

The sudden cessation was almost too much to bear. With no other sensations to compete with, Tom could feel nothing but the throbbing pain of his reddening chest and the heavy ache of his cock. He squirmed, his bound hands going numb under his lower back, and the overworked muscles of his abdomen burned as he struggled to sit up. Chris stopped him with a hand on his stomach.

 

“Do you want to come, Tom?” Chris asked, running a finger along the seam of Tom’s panties near the joint where hip met thigh.

 

Tom was beyond speech at the moment. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, not caring what he was agreeing with. Chris’s finger pulled the waistband of the panties down and his hand snuck in to grip his balls like a vise. “Tell us how much you want it and we’ll let you come.”

 

The pressure of Chris’s fingers was maddening but Tom found his tongue, “Fuck, I want to come! I’ll do anything, just please!” He shuddered with need and humiliation but Chris’s hand remained adamant against his release.

 

“That’s a brave promise. You sure you want to make it?” Idris’s amused voice moved closer.

 

“I don’t care!” Tom snarled and tried to snap his hips up to wring himself out of Chris’s hold, but the hand on his belly kept him pinned down. Another set of hands pinched both of his nipples again and Tom moaned out another plea, “Oh, god, please!”

 

“You’ll be a good girl for us, then?” Idris was now at his ear. He pushed aside Tom’s tie to lick a trail down his neck, stopping to lap at the hollow of his throat, and tilted his head to bite along the ridge of his clavicle.

 

“Yes…fuck! Your good girl, yes.” Tom lifted his head and opened his eyes to look pleadingly down his body at Chris, who cocked an eyebrow at him. 

 

“Really? You’re such an eager little bitch that you don’t even need my hand on your dick to come, do you? Go on, then. If you can’t do it within the next thirty seconds, then it’s not going to happen tonight.”

 

Chris’s words hit Tom like a physical blow; he flinched and let his head fall back to the countertop. The hands of both Idris and Chris left him, dropping his leg to dangle once more.

 

The two cops had hit all the right buttons so quickly that Tom began to suspect Downey had given them tips in his letter. It was a disturbing and arousing thought; as though Tom were a pet and Downey had left instructions on his care and feeding for his new owners. A surge of lust followed the thought and if Tom’s hands weren’t bound he would have needed only the lightest, briefest touch to be done in seconds. Instead the only tool at his disposal was his over-stimulated mind. He focused on the rawness of his nipples and tried to picture what he looked like at that moment: splayed out and ready to come from a combination of rough handling and women’s silk on his body. 

 

“Twenty seconds left, pretty girl.”

 

Tom frantically catalogued his various aches and pains and how they came to be, finding particular pleasure in the prickly numbness of his hands and wrists as a reminder of his vulnerability here. He was close, so close now that he felt faint.

 

“Ten seconds and that’s it.”

 

Hands large and strong enough to circle and restrain his wrists. A weight he can’t dislodge no matter how he writhes and pushes against it. Thick, unyielding heat punching its way in, melting him open until he is consumed by it. Muscle that forces him to yield, dwarfs him, makes him small when he is anything but. Almost almost almost almost.

 

“Last chance,” Chris taunted before he snapped the waistband of the panties back against Tom’s fully engorged cock. 

 

The surprise and pain of it was exactly what he needed; Tom arched his back and let go with a cry. He came so violently that he was shocked to feel a jet of come splash under his chin, the rest falling in streaks across his belly and chest. Though powerful, it wasn’t a particularly enjoyable orgasm; Tom was so tense that the jerking of his muscles even made it somewhat painful. The boneless contentment that usually followed was nowhere to be found, and his two tormentors gave him no time to savor what little pleasure there was.

 

“That was cheating,” Idris chided his partner as he pulled Tom into a sitting position, propping him up with a hand behind his neck.

 

Chris shrugged, “He looked so pathetic, I couldn’t resist giving him a little push.” Tom winced as Chris wiped down his tender chest and then his wrung-out cock with the scraps of his shirt, still sensitive in the aftermath of his orgasm. “Good girl. I think you deserve a reward after that. Why don’t we open your last present?” 

 

Tom took a deep, calming breath, “I’d rather you let me go, but I doubt I can stop you.” His mind was still a little fuzzy around the edges and it made him reckless. Chris sighed at him and flicked his fingernails viciously against the head of Tom’s cock in punishment.

 

Idris just laughed and retrieved the remaining gift. He ripped off the wrapping paper and bow to reveal a round, hinged leather box. It looked vaguely familiar to Tom, but it wasn’t until Idris flipped open the lid that the memory coalesced. The last clouds of fog clinging to him dissipated and a growing dread took their place. The center of the box contained what appeared to be a roll of blue ribbon and cream-colored webbing or lace on top of a small velvet bag. Tom, however, only had eyes for what encircled them, coiled in wait like a snake: a wide black collar made of thick, padded leather adorned with a silver buckle and heavy D-ring.

 

Downey had shown him this same collar several years ago, in a move that hindsight told Tom had been a threat and a promise. Until now he always thought it had been by accident, his early return interrupting Downey as he fucked a sinewy, red-haired man against the living room couch. Tom had lurked in the hallway, unsure if he should make himself known, but as ever Downey was a step ahead of him. Once done with the man, Downey had yanked him up by the collar and unbuckled it before acknowledging Tom’s presence, “Go greet my guest, Michael, then get dressed and go home.” Blue eyes and a stubbled shark’s smile had corralled Tom against the wall with a kiss that was more an assault than a welcome. Michael had finished with a bite to his bottom lip and a pat on his cheek, then walked out of the room with a well-fucked hitch in his gait. 

 

“What the fuck was that about?” Tom had demanded, panting a little in the wake of his sudden molestation.

 

Downey had motioned him over as he turned towards a side table, the collar still in his hands. “Just business, babe. A payment between friends.”

 

“I’ve never seen _that_ before.” Tom had indicated the collar as he approached.

 

“That’s because it’s only for whores like Michael; boys who don’t know their place and need a reminder.” Downey had paused to hold the collar up to Tom’s neck and then laughed at his alarmed expression. “Don’t worry, as lovely as it’d look around your throat, this isn’t for you. You’re such a good boy that you don’t need a reminder, do you Tom? You know who owns you.” He had fitted the collar into the round leather box and then handed it to Tom. “Go put this on the dresser for me and then prep yourself. I’ll join you in a minute.” It had been one of the few times Downey ever verbalized the true nature of their arrangement and Tom had blushed to hear it. 

 

And now he colored again at the memory, staring in sick fascination as Idris lifted the collar from the box with a whistle. “Nice and soft; feels like it’s broken in. Rob use this on you?”

 

Tom shook his head and mumbled, “No, it…No.”

 

“Hmm,” Idris took out the velvet bag next, weighing it in his hand before undoing the drawstring. A flash of leather and shiny metal poured forth as he upended the bag on the countertop. At first Tom had the horrific impression of a chain leash with a black handle, but Idris untangled the fat links into three points and Tom realized it was much worse than that. Two nipple clamps hung from either end of a length of chain, connected by an O-ring to another chain that ended in a cock ring of black leather studded with snaps. “And this?” Idris asked.

 

“Yes,” Tom breathed out.

 

“Yeah, he would have, wouldn’t he?” Idris removed the last item from the box, unfurling a pair of lace-topped, opaque cream thigh-highs and matching garter belt with blue bow clips. “Remind me to send Rob a thank you note tomorrow.”

 

Chris had been silent while Idris sifted through Tom’s presents, but now he gave a pleased sound from deep in his throat. “Just gorgeous. I think it’s high time we finished dressing you, Tom. I want you all dolled up like the sweetest little whore when I eat you out. I’m going to fuck you with my tongue until your tiny cunt is begging for something bigger to fill it.”

 

Heat spread from Tom’s belly to his limbs and still recovering cock, washing through his bloodstream like the glow of good whiskey. He even felt drunk; unfocused in everything but his baser urges.

 

Chris smirked at his reaction, “I’m going to make you want it so bad, stretch you open so wide that you’ll need both of us in you before you’re satisfied.” He ran a hand up Tom’s calf, pressing his fingers into the soft dip behind his knee. “Now give us your legs, pretty girl, and let your daddies dress you.”


End file.
